


Making a Mane

by Wife_of_Bath



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autopsies, Bonding, Folk Music, Gen, Historical References, It's Irving after all, Late Night Conversations, Musing on Death and Decomposition, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wife_of_Bath/pseuds/Wife_of_Bath
Summary: Irving seeks Goodsir's assistance, and they have a talk about home.Written for Halloween Terrorfest Day 11: Corruptible Mortal State





	Making a Mane

He felt guilty disturbing Dr. Goodsir like this. The poor surgeon was overburdened already. He did not need another man coming to him complaining of ailments. What a calamity for them to lose three of their doctors in one night! Sometimes, when Irving was alone with his thoughts, he wondered if this was God’s punishment for their indulgence at Carnivale. Maybe if they had all be a little more restrained, a little more circumspect, this never would have happened. But that made no sense. They had done nothing wrong, nothing truly wrong, certainly nothing that would have brought God’s judgment raining down like Sodom and Gomorrah. Irving had to trust that all would work out according to God’s plan. Everything happened for a reason, although Irving could not understand what that reason could be.

Dim light shone within the canvas walls of Dr. Goodsir’s tent. He looked up as Irving pushed the flap open, and his eyes were so tired that Irving felt another pang of guilt. He had rarely seen the surgeon during the voyage, but Irving remembered the lines around his eyes and mouth being fainter and an optimistic set to his shoulders that was long gone now. Still, Dr. Goodsir smiled and waved Irving to come inside.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” Unwrapping the bandages around his fingers, Irving held out his hand for Dr. Goodsir to examine.

“It doesn’t bother me much, but it’s grown to the point where I notice it more now. Dr. Peddie was helping me take care of it, but…” He tried not to think of the quiet doctor crushed and burned alive. He was a good man. He did not deserve that.

Dr. Goodsir nodded, turning Irving’s hand over so he could inspect the palm as well. “Any other bruises?”

“I’ve noticed a few on my arms and legs. So far, nothing yet with my teeth, at least, I don’t think so.” 

“You would know.” Gently, he began to clean and dress Irving’s hand. His touch was light, exact, and Irving felt the beating of his heart ease as Dr. Goodsir attended him. He worked diligently but care was etched deeply in his features. 

“Have you ever dealt with this before?” Dr. Goodsir asked.

“No, although I had a bad bout with dysentery when I was in Australia.”

“Were you stationed there?”

“No, no, I had given up the navy, tried my hand at sheep farming with my brother.” Irving shook his head, a familiar feeling of embarrassment at the memory. “I wasn’t very good at it.”

“So you came back?”

“It seemed like the best thing.”

Dr. Goodsir finished wrapping the new dressing and tied it off with a deft little knot. “There. That should keep you for a while. I suggest keeping your gloves on when you can to protect your fingers from the cold.”

“Thank you.” Looking down at the clean bandages, he suddenly thought of a shroud. One day, he would be wrapped up head to toe and be laid to rest somewhere in the world. His flesh would melt away until only his bones remained. Years ago, when he was a student, he was looking through a book and found a painting of the Last Judgment. Christ sat enthroned in glory while the people, some nothing more than skeletons, climbed out of the earth. He had stared at the resurrected, embracing and rejoicing in their new, perfected bodies for a long time before turning the page only to find a woodcut of the Dance of Death. Most of the skeletons were nothing but bones, but some still had ragged flesh, worms, and strips of cloth clinging to them. Was that them now, Irving wondered. A group of dead men lined up in a row as they pulled sledges across the barren land?

“You lived in Edinburgh before, didn’t you?” he asked. Irving knew Dr. Goodsir was Scottish, although like him the surgeon tried to bury his accent.

“Yes. I studied at the university, and I worked as the conservator of the Surgeon’s Hall Museum before I joined the Expedition.”

“I never went, though I heard of it. I expect it was very interesting work.”

Dr. Goodsir shrugged modestly. “I like to think I did a good job, even if I worked there only briefly. You would be surprised at how much work goes into managing a place like that.”

“And did you ever go to Greyfriars Kirkyard?”

“A few times with my brothers. We walked around the headstones and tried to find the famous ones.”

“We did that too, Lewie—Lewis, my elder brother, and I,” he said. “When I was younger, we would read the inscriptions and make up stories about the people.” He paused, remembering the spread of the graves in the kirkyard and the elaborate vaults, monuments, and memorials that lined the walls encircling the graves. The last time he went had been a warm day, the grass lush and verdant against the gray worn stones. “So many had something carved on them, an angel or an urn, but there was one that struck terror in me as a child. It was a monument to a woman of all people. There was a skeleton robed and crowned with kneeling cherubs on either side. And above it was a screaming face, like a soul trapped in agony. I never understood why someone would want something so horrible on her tomb. Lewis told me it was the King of Terrors, the Triumph of Death. Did you ever see it?”

“I must have missed that one,” Dr. Goodsir replied. “I think I would have remembered something so frightening.”

“A lot of the monuments had skeletons on them, but nothing like that. Some of the graves had large iron grates on them as well. Lewis told me they were to keep the vampires from rising, and I believed him then.” Irving smiled despite himself, amused at how gullible he was as a child. “It was not until later that I learned that they were to deter ‘Resurrectionists’. You know? Like Burke and Hare?”

An odd expression passed over Dr. Goodsir’s face. “Yes, I saw those.”

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” He feared he had offended Dr. Goodsir, although he could not think how.

“No. I studied anatomy under Dr. Robert Knox.” Irving shook his head, uncomprehending. “The man to whom Burke and Hare supplied the bodies.”

“Oh.” Had Dr. Goodsir unwittingly performed on one of the murdered victims? Irving dared not ask. The man was so selfless and kind that Irving could not imagine him involved with such a grisly matter, even remotely.

“It was after the case, although Dr. Knox himself narrowly avoided getting killed for his involvement.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “They preserved Burke’s skeleton,” he whispered, although there was no danger of anyone overhearing them. “If you had come to the Surgeon’s Hall Museum, you would have seen his death mask and a book that rumor says was made from his tanned skin.”

Irving could not hide his astonishment. Even though Burke was a murderer, it seemed beyond the realm of justice to make objects from a dead man’s skin. “Have you handled it?”

“Yes,” Dr. Goodsir replied. “I know it must sound horrible, but those things draw a crowd. I think you would be surprised, Lieutenant, at how many people have a taste for the macabre.”

“I admit I cannot imagine anyone seeking such a thing except for academic knowledge,” he said. “And his skeleton is there as well?”

“No, his skeleton is at the Medical School.” Irving nodded at that. Perhaps it was a fitting punishment for the murderer to never get a grave of his own when he had robbed so many people of theirs. 

“At least people know where he is. It is more than he gave his victims.” Would they receive the same courtesy? The three at Beechey had graves, as did poor David Young. They could rest easy. They tried their best with what was left with Sir John, but that could hardly have been called a proper burial, could it? Not with the rest of him trapped under the ice, dumped into the ocean like refuse. Even if they made it back home, they would not be able to tell Lady Franklin where her husband lay. And what of them? When one of them fell out here, would they be buried in the rocks, or would the time come when they will be left to bleach in the sun?

“Many a one for him makes mane, but nane shall ken where he is gane,” he sang softly, letting his own accent creep into the words. He could not recall where he had first heard the ancient folk ballad, but it made him think of home, the house on Princes Street, the crown steeple of St. Giles, and the rows of old tombs in Greyfriars with their mourning angels and dancing skeletons.

“O’er his white bones, when they are bare, the wind shall blow for evermare,” Dr. Goodsir finished.

They fell silent, neither wanting to voice the fear that they would one day be like the knight of the song, abandoned and alone, known only by the crows who feasted on his corpse. Sighing, Irving started to rise and leave Dr. Goodsir in peace when the surgeon reached over to take his hand. He cradled it between his own, his fingers running lightly over the bandages. Those fingers had cut into bodies to learn their secrets, and they belonged to a healer. Irving clasped his good hand over Dr. Goodsir’s. His skin was warm in the cold night air.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Potted_Music](https://pottedmusic.tumblr.com/post/174955311319/remember-that-heartbreaking-scene-in-ep09-when) for the info about the historical Goodsir studying under Dr. Knox!
> 
> Greyfriars Kirkyard in Edinburgh has some fantastic grave art, including [this piece](https://www.flickr.com/photos/davids_leicas/17607221935) for Elizabeth Paton's memorial, which is definitely interesting.
> 
> I blame this entirely on listening to Steeleye Span's version of ["Twa Corbies"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fChqXqvvmg8) where I also snagged the title.


End file.
